title: freckle, freckle, what makes you so special
pairing: chris colfer/darren criss
rating: somewhere between R and NC-17?
word count: 954
summary: Darren should know better than to get involved with coworkers. Based on the Fall Out Boy song W.A.M.S.
It’s never a good idea to get involved with coworkers. Darren knows this. In fact, he knows it and reminds himself of that fact every single day, repeating it like a mantra.
He knows he should have learned his lesson in college, when a couple of his stupid hookups resulted in hurt feelings and a shitload of tension for a couple of weeks during rehearsals for A Very Potter Musical.
He knows he should have learned his lesson when he was on Eastwick, when a brief fling with one of the camera operators caused some ill-will when he broke the news to her that it was, in fact, a brief fling.
He really knows he should have learned his lesson when he drunkenly made out with Heather Morris just a week after starting filming on Glee, resulting in three days of her blatantly avoiding him until he finally just started singing “Part of Your World” at her until she cracked and sang along.
He very obviously still has a lesson to learn, but he’s finding it incredibly difficult to remember what exactly that lesson is when Chris Colfer has him shoved down on one of the Dalton couches after the set has emptied out.
Darren knows he should probably stop Chris, knows he should probably clamp a hand over his ridiculous lips and knows he should probably swat Chris’s hand away from his thigh, but why should he? He can’t remember. Distantly, he remembers something about how things are always awkward when crap like this happens, but then Chris’s hand is moving from his thigh to skim across the front of his stupid Dalton pants and well – shit.
Darren knows this is going to get out of hand and fast, but he really doesn’t care now, not when Chris Colfer’s pointer and middle fingers are oh-so-gently kneading at the zipper of Darren’s pants and his lips are sucking a line across Darren’s collarbone, his tongue swirling lazy circles at the marks. All Darren can really think about is fuckfuckfuck how does he know how to do that fuckfuck—because really? As far as he knew, Chris was some blushing self-deprecating virgin who hadn’t the slightest idea how to even unzip another dude’s pants, let alone stroke another man’s zipper in some pseudo-tantalizing-porno fashion.
He feels a sudden tug at said zipper and Darren lets out a surprised moan, his hand flying up to grip Chris’s hair. His other arm twists around Chris’s waist as he rolls them over, slowing Chris down just a bit, because holy shit is he moving fast right now. They’d barely even kissed, other than the sloppy, nervous kiss that Chris had sprung on him out of nowhere in the middle of their conversation. After he broke away, he’d very determinedly focused on Darren’s jaw and ears and neck, all the while pushing his hips down against Darren’s.
Yeah, now seems like a good time to take control of the situation. So Darren does, dipping down to kiss Chris properly, half-expecting some sort of protest. Instead, Chris just lets out a content little sigh, his hands drifting down to rest at Darren’s hips, his fingers tugging at the fabric of his button-down until he can curl his fingertips against bare skin. It elicits a stuttered shudder out of Darren and draws a quiet moan from deep in his throat, the sound muffled somewhat against Chris’s lips.
With that, Chris fumbles for Darren’s zipper again, this time unhooking the button and shoving his pants down a couple of inches. It’s enough to supply a little give between them, it seems, because then Chris is unceremoniously shoving his hand into Darren’s boxers and curling his fingers around his cock.
Darren releases another moan, this one more out of shock than anything, and he instantly knows that this is badbadbad but hey, it’s past the point of return now, right? Chris’s hand is on his cock, squeezing and twisting and flicking with more skill and precision than anyone should have when they’re squeezed onto a tiny couch, underneath another dude. But Chris manages it, manages it so well that it’s like he was born with the goddamn ability, because it really only takes a few minutes of Chris’s fingers moving over him to get Darren squirming above him. Darren drops his head against Chris’s shoulder, panting unevenly and loudly as Chris brings him closer, the hot, wired tension coiling tight in his abdomen, twisting tighter and tighter with each stroke of Chris’s hand.
Part of Darren still wants to stop it – hey, maybe if he doesn’t come then it doesn’t count – but then he feels Chris’s teeth against his ear and his hand tightens just right around his cock and he’s completely done for, coming hot and shaky over Chris’s hand. Darren just sputters out incoherent sounds and gasps into Chris’s shoulder as he shudders, Chris’s fingers grazing gently and lazily across his skin as he calms down.
There’s a few moments of silence and stillness between them before Chris finally pulls his hand from Darren’s pants and Darren lifts his head and shifts ever-so-slightly, feeling that Chris is still very much hard underneath him. Chris looks up at him thoughtfully, his expression fairly unreadable, other than the quite-obvious haze of lust in his eyes. Darren smirks, as if to say okay Colfer, two can play this game, and goes for Chris’s zipper this time.
Surprisingly enough, Chris isn’t weird at all the next day. He gives Darren’s hand a squeeze in greeting and promptly launches into a story about his disastrous Starbucks experience that morning, and for the first time, Darren figures that being involved with a coworker isn’t all that bad.